


Pick Up The Pieces

by smc_27



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 05:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7254118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smc_27/pseuds/smc_27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve considers himself a gentleman. He’s not really in the habit of comparing himself to other men, because, well, even he can see that’s not really a fair fight. But then he sees these guys the women around him date, and he just...This is what it’s come to? They’re living in a time when a guy not sending unsolicited pictures of his manhood before the first date is considered exceptional?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick Up The Pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katertots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katertots/gifts).



Steve considers himself a gentleman, okay? And not even just in the sense that he holds open doors, tries not to swear too much in front of older people, and is happy to give up his spot in the checkout line if someone behind him only has a few items. He just thinks everyone should be treated with respect, that’s all. People like to romanticize the fact that he’s ‘from a different time’ when men treated people with dignity and...Look, that whole thing isn’t even true. His entire life before the Army was full of people treating him like a proverbial and literal punching bag; it wasn’t all tips of the hat and ‘hello ma’ams’. 

No, see, the thing is? The thing is, he’s just _not an asshole_. Which is apparently rare. Or rare enough that people look up to him as this beacon of moral light, and forgive him the fact that he, you know, kills people on a pretty regular basis. 

Steve considers himself a gentleman. He’s not really in the habit of comparing himself to other men, because, well, even he can see that’s not really a fair fight. But then he sees these guys the women around him date, and he just...This is what it’s come to? They’re living in a time when a guy _not_ sending unsolicited pictures of his manhood before the first date is considered exceptional? 

And he knows women who can only be considered exceptional themselves. Natasha is a trained _spy_ , for Christ’s sake. Her dating life is a bit of a mystery, but he knows for a fact she isn’t exactly celibate. He also knows there’s a twisted, dark, messy history between her and Bucky. Steve’s still trying to wrap his head around that one, and is sort of stuck in this space between wanting to know all the details and wanting to leave it the hell alone. All this to say that Natasha doesn’t put up with crap from rude people. He had to stop her from breaking a guy’s arm once when he touched her without her permission. To be honest, it was a struggle not to just let her do it.

As for Maria? Jeez, she’s gorgeous, and accomplished, and amazing at what she does. She attracts attention because of the way she carries herself. Hell, those dresses and skirts she wears don’t hurt, either. She’s a stunner and Steve knows that, and any time he might forget, he gets pretty quick reminders. Usually from Sam. No, she doesn’t go long without attention, either. She’s selective about who she dates, and even more selective about who she lets know about her personal life. Which makes total sense to Steve. And he has no idea how he ended up being one of the people she trusts with details of her relationships, but...Well, no, he sort of remembers this one evening Natasha was in his quarters, slashes on her back being tended to by Maria because they didn’t want anyone else to know Nat had been hurt during the mission. She was lying on his bed and asked Maria to tell her something to take her mind off the pain, and Maria started talking about this guy Andrew she’d been seeing. Steve had just been standing there with his arms crossed, more worried about Natasha than Maria’s confusion over the guy apparently refusing an invite back to her place after a date.

Maria doesn’t have time for inefficiencies. This goes for work and for men, apparently. If she’s not getting what she wants, the way she wants it, she moves on. Steve likes that about her, too. 

Which brings him to Darcy. She was brought on last year as sort of a Den Mother to the team, or something. Which is sort of hilarious, because she swears a blue streak and pretty much tells them to fend for themselves. He asked her about it once and she’d just said, “You’re all grown. I’m not gonna make you chocolate milk and ask about your feelings. If you need supplies or come back half dead, I’ll jump into action. If you do your jobs right, I shouldn’t have to do mine at all.” Steve had appreciated the honesty and, frankly, likes that she doesn’t think they need a babysitter. And he knows for a fact that she makes a hell of a lot of money to do what she does, which sometimes seems like a waste of resources. But when they do need her, it definitely pays off. She’s saved their asses before and he’s sure she’ll do it again. 

You’d think that a no-nonsense, fast-talking, quick-witted woman wouldn’t put up with bullshit from people who aren’t good enough for her. But seriously? Darcy’s absolutely _hopeless_ with men. Steve honestly doesn’t know if that’s because of something she does, or they do, or some weird combination of both. He’s not about to ask. He just thinks she’s got downright terrible taste, which usually means she ends up hurt or pissed. Let’s just say Steve hasn’t seen her end a relationship amicably since they met. 

And unlike the other women in his life, she’s not exactly shy or guarded about her feelings or her opinions. Well, that might not even be true. As far as he can tell, she’s pretty guarded with what she actually feels, and hides a lot of her emotions behind biting sarcasm and jokes. Which he knows is a thing people do. All he’s saying is he’s heard a lot about her dating life and her reasons for ending things. Honestly he doesn’t understand why she doesn’t just _pick better men_. He’s almost got to wonder if she _likes_ the chaos. 

They’re in Bruges for a summit of world leaders, a contract job protecting the lot of them that he knows has brought in more money for the agency than they need for the immediate future. That’s fine by him. He’d rather do one of these big jobs than a ton of small ones of similar nature. At the end of his watch, he sits down in the living room of this house they’ve rented and Darcy’s there in her purple pajama pants and tee shirt that says “Free Shrugs” across the chest, her phone in her hand. Her personal phone, not her work phone. And she’s wearing her glasses instead of her contacts, and playing with her hair with the hand that isn’t swiping across the screen. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, and he’d love to put his feet up, but he doesn’t think feet belong on furniture, so as tempting as the coffee table looks, he just slouches down a bit in his chair to get comfortable. 

“I’m sure I could if I tried,” she says, not even looking at him. “The time difference between here and New York means this is the best time to catch Jason.”

“Who’s Jason?” he asks, brow furrowed, and Darcy glances up from her screen, then puts her phone down on her lap. “New guy?”

Darcy smiles a bit. “Newish, sure. I think I mentioned him. He’s nice. He works on Wall Street.” Yeah, Steve’s never in his entire life ever met anyone _nice_ who works on Wall Street. He’s not saying those people can’t or don’t exist, but… “Tired?” 

He’s mid yawn, covering his mouth with his fist. “I could sleep.” He’s been up for at least 20 hours. “Who’re you waiting on?”

Darcy just looks at him, stands up and stretches her arms over her head. “I was waiting for you.” She puts her hand on his shoulder as she walks past. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.” 

He watches her walk down the hall and listens for her door to shut. Steve switches off all the lights, checks the locks on the doors, and wonders if the fact that she isn’t telling him everything about this Jason guy means more than she’s letting on. 

… … …

Things are almost suspiciously quiet after they get back from Europe. And Steve knows it’s a bit messed up that he thinks that way, that when nothing’s going on, when there’s no crisis, there’s something to be worried about. He’s just not used to the downtime and he thinks it’s weird that he spends his free time reading in his quarters. Or, really, that he has any free time at all. Clint recommended this series to him, said it’s on Netflix, so he’s been watching a bit of that for the last few days, and feeling miserable for hoping this doesn’t last very long. What does that say about him? That he thrives on chaos? At this point, what else does he know? 

After another brief during which there’s nothing to brief, after Natasha’s expressed the same concerns he has - that maybe the fact that they haven’t heard anything from anywhere in the world that needs their attention means people are just getting better at hiding it - someone suggests they all go out for drinks. The name of a bar is mentioned, and it’s a quick decision he doesn’t really have an opinion on, because it doesn’t matter to him where he goes, Steve’s sure he’ll have a decent time in this company no matter what. 

“Coming?” Steve asks after everyone’s walked out of the room. It’s just Darcy now, standing, gathering her things. 

She shakes her head and he feels a little disappointed. “I’m meeting Jason for dinner, then we’re going to this event his firm is hosting.”

Steve’s brow goes up and he smirks at her. “Meeting the coworkers. That’s pretty big.” Darcy rolls her eyes and he holds the door open for her as they leave the room and step into the hall. “It’s going well, then.”

She shrugs once, glances at him. “I think so.”

“You think so?”

Look, it’s not like he’s an expert in relationships or whatever, but he’s a knowledgeable guy and he’s got experience with some things, and he’s observant and likes watching people. She’s either downplaying it or she’s not convinced about this guy. Steve isn’t sure which of those things he’d rather be true. 

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up,” she admits, and damn, that makes Steve feel a little sad for her. Not pitying, or anything, it’s just pretty awful to think she’s had so many less-than-great experiences that she’s this guarded in relationships. Actually, that explains a lot about her. 

They walk as far as the elevator - he’s going up to his quarters to change and she’s heading straight on to her office - and really, this all feels really strange. Darcy makes jokes and calls people on things and generally isn’t quiet or reserved or holding her folders against her chest like they’re some kind of protection. 

“Are you all right?” he asks, and she looks really confused. “You’re being very...Un-Darcy.”

She laughs out loud and her smile makes him feel better about all this, to be honest. “I’m just nervous for tonight. Don’t tell anyone.”

The elevator doors open and Steve holds out his arm to keep them open. “Secret’s safe with me.”

Darcy looks straight at him and then pushes her hair off her face. It sort of kills him every time she does that. She’s a beautiful women and that whole motion just floors him. 

She says, “I know,” and then turns to walk away.

Later, Steve’s playing pool with Sam and the topic of conversation seems to be only on Darcy and her date and Jason, and everyone seems to think this is really something that could be good for her. Steve’s just stuck thinking he’s not too crazy about the fact that she’s with someone who makes her shrink down like he saw her earlier. Someone who makes her a little less like herself. He doesn’t say that out loud, and no one asks him his opinion. 

… … …

There’s another time when she’s dressed nicely and going to meet Jason, but she doesn’t give out any details other than it’s dinner and it’s her turn to pick the restaurant and she’s taking the guy to her favourite Chinese place in the East Village. Which makes Steve’s stomach twist with jealousy, or something equally as useless, and think about how she took him there a couple months ago when she asked if he’d been and he’d said he hadn’t. 

And that’s the thing, right? He knows how lame it is, but he’s bothered by the fact that the time she used to spend with him, she’s now spending with someone else. 

Steve spends the entire evening trying to fool himself into thinking he can focus on a book. Then he switches the television on and there’s some dumb movie about a woman who gives up basically everything for a career she doesn’t love and a relationship she doesn’t want. And then it ends with her somehow being happy, and Steve’s not usually cynical, and he knows Hollywood is meant to make you suspend your disbelief, but he’s sort of pissed off as the credits roll. 

He’s thinking about Darcy, and he wants to ignore this thing in his head telling him plain and clear why he’s so fixated on it. He really doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it earlier. Then again, he’s always sort of been the guy who wanted what he couldn’t have. Maybe it’s not all that surprising that he didn’t realize he had feelings for her until she became involved with someone else. He just thinks it’s messed up that now there’s nothing he can do about it. And really, they work together and it would be completely inappropriate to have any kind of relationship other than friendship. Actually, they’re probably pushing that, too, spending as much time as they do outside of work. It’s not _a lot_ , but it’s more than none. 

Steve’s always been good at blurring the lines, though. Shit, if he ever really opened up to the psychologists on staff, they’d probably be able to tell him why. But let’s not get carried away. 

He has feelings for Darcy, and now he has to watch her build a relationship with someone else, and if that isn’t just Steve’s goddamn luck…

… … …

The last thing he remembers is someone lifting him onto the chopper and Darcy jabbing a needle into his ass.

Not his best day.

He knows where things went south and when he fills out his report, he’ll be thorough. But right now his head is pounding and he can’t seem to move his leg. He can feel it, so he’s sure it’s fine, really, but it’s wrapped tightly with something, and he’s forced to just stay here lying on his back like an invalid. 

He shifts his scratchy eyes over when he hears papers shuffling, sees Darcy sitting next to his bed - he notices he’s in his quarters - in the black suit she was wearing earlier. Or on the mission. He has no idea how long he was out. Now, though, she’s got a plaid scarf around her neck, and Steve smiles a little bit - as much as he can - because she’s always telling him he keeps his quarters too cold. 

“Well,” she says, setting her papers on her lap. He couldn’t tell you why she’s holding files instead of her tablet. “You look like hell, Rogers.”

He laughs, which hurts like a bitch. Groaning, he turns his head. “Successful?”

Darcy tilts her head. She’s always telling him he’s too worried about missions and not worried enough about himself and one of these days it’s going to get him killed. She, of course, says it differently so it seems like a joke, but it’s shit like this that makes him think she’s probably just making light of it because she isn’t yet ready to tell him just how serious she is. 

“Yes,” she says, then reaches for the cup of water, holds it for him and presses the straw against his lips. He’s sure he could sit up if he wanted to, but his ribs are tender and he knows if he sits up too fast he’ll have blinding pain raging through his head. 

This isn’t his first injury. Won’t be the last. 

“How long was I out?”

Darcy pulls her chair a bit closer, angles it so he doesn’t have to turn his head to see her. He’s thankful for it, just tries to nod a little in appreciation. “I shot you full of tranquilizer. It’s been about 12 hours.”

Steve chuckles, then reaches his hand up to place it over his ribs. He’ll heal quickly, but damn, he feels like he got hit by a truck. Which, you know, makes sense, since that’s what happened. And it’s not exactly tranquilizer that she has in case of injuries, but it might as well be, because the effect is mostly the same. It knocks you out and you feel groggy as hell when you come to.

“You were supposed to meet him,” Steve says, and yeah, for some reason that’s the thing he’s thinking about. She was telling him earlier that she was going over to Jason’s place and he was going to make her his signature meal or something. Which Steve still thinks is stupid, because signature dishes, or signature anything, are never as good as people think they are.

Darcy rolls her eyes and sets her hand on the bed. “I rescheduled. Taking care of your unconscious ass took precedent, I guess.” Despite himself, he smiles, closes his eyes. “Wake up.” She punches his hip lightly and his eyes open again. “You want the run down?”

He winces. He could guess what injuries he’s endured, but he should probably let her give him the full list so he knows how to take care of himself. Sure, there’re people on staff at all times who could do that for him, but they all know he’s too proud for that crap and he’d rather do it himself if he can. 

“Severely bruised ribs. Concussion. You’re basically one giant contusion, so I won’t go into detail. And a gash on your leg that was practically down to the bone.” Well, that explains why it’s wrapped so damn tightly. Darcy sighs and looks away from his face, down at his body. He realizes he’s not wearing a shirt, just has the sheets pulled up. “What the hell were you thinking, Steve?”

“Just trying to get the job done.”

Darcy narrows her eyes and shakes her head. “I’d rather have you alive than complete the goddam mission,” she says, and angrily. 

And he’s a bit confused, really, because that’s not standard protocol, and maybe it’s different with the core team members, but the mandate is that you do the job at any cost. People are replaceable; retrainable. Obviously the goal is to do the job and not lose any personnel, but when it comes right down to it…

“You’re not supposed to say that,” he tells her, and then her hand is right alongside his body, touching him gently through the sheets. 

“I know. I guess I just have a soft spot for idiot super soldiers.”

“Plural?” he asks boldly, grinning.

Darcy looks confused for a moment, then lets out a breath and pushes her hair off her face. “One in particular.”

Her phone chimes and he glances over to see Jason’s name on the screen. “Hope he’s not pissed I stole his girl for the night.”

Darcy raises her brow and straightens her posture. “I’m not his _girl_ , and it’s not like you threw yourself in front of a truck to fuck up my date.” Steve smiles, thinks that was just a pleasant side effect. Shit. He shouldn’t even consider stuff like that. He’s not an asshole. “I have to go. It’s 6:30. I should clean up and change for work.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

Darcy scoffs. “No. You slept deeply enough for the both of us. Apparently head trauma and tranquilizer makes you snore like a damn bear.” He laughs a little and she stands, puts her hand on his shoulder. “Steve - and I mean this sincerely - if I see you upright today, I’m going to personally kick your ass and order you to be chained to this bed like the crazy person I’m not entirely sure you aren’t.”

He can’t help but smile at that, and he’s feeling tired enough already to want to close his eyes again for a little while. 

“Thanks for staying with me,” he says, means it, and Darcy gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

“Where the hell else would I have been?”

She winks, grabs her things, and steps out the door into the hall. 

Steve’s so totally and completely screwed.

… … …

He’s fine. He’s completely fine. He even _voluntarily_ went and had an MRI. Yeah, he volunteered only because he knew it was the only way anyone would believe him that he’s 100% healthy and in his right mind. Jesus, you get hit by one truck and all of a sudden people think you can’t do your job. 

They send him on this bullshit mission that he can tell the whole team is trying to pretend isn’t as lame as it is. It’s all for his sake and he just goes along with it instead of saying anything about how they aren’t really fooling him and he doesn’t need a bunch of babysitters and a task a well-trained monkey could complete.

He takes out five armed guards in a span of about 20 seconds, and the look Nat gives him lets him know she’s convinced he’s all right. 

It’s late when they get back, and he sheds his suit and grabs a shower, heads to meet everyone in the common area, where Maria says she’s got drinks for everyone and someone left a box of cupcakes earlier. He’s just getting back from locking his shield in his quarters - yeah, he’s a little protective - and he sees Darcy at the other end of the hall. She looks uncomfortable, but she’s laughing, too, holding her phone to her ear. She’s never sure how to approach someone when you’ve got to pass them to get where you’re going and you don’t want to seem like you’re eavesdropping. 

But then Darcy says, “Oh my god, you drunk idiot. You can’t say that,” and okay, he’s totally eavesdropping. Darcy sees him right away, smiles at him. “Because I’m at work.” And see, it’s awkward now, because he doesn’t know if he should keep walking, or stay here. “I’m not going to your place tonight, so you can just kiss that dream goodbye...I know. I’m so cruel to you.” Steve leans against the wall. Sounds like she’s almost done. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He’s looking at a scuff on the floor when he hears her apologize and looks up at her. “No problem. Everything okay?”

He asks because it’s polite, not because he wants to hear about her boyfriend. 

“Fine. He’s drunk and wants…” She shifts her eyes up to Steve’s and he’s just watching her. “He wants.”

He barely stops himself from clenching his jaw. 

“Right.”

“Okay, what?” she asks, and sounds a little mad. Or on edge at least. “Don’t look at me like that. There’s something you want to say and you aren’t saying it. Don’t give me that Captain America, diplomatic bullshit, Steve. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Well damn. He didn’t even realize she knew him well enough to know his tells. Hell, yeah, he did. She’s just never insisted he tell her something this way. Or maybe he’s never actually held back and forced her to boss him around about it. 

“I just think it’s shitty,” he tells her bluntly. “It’s midnight. He calls you, drunk, and obviously wants exactly one thing.” Darcy’s face goes blank and Steve’s positive he’s offending her in at least four different ways. “Come on, Darcy. You know you want more than that. You _deserve_ more than that.”

She gives him a look like he’s crazy, crosses her arms and holds her chin up a little higher. So he’s getting the impression he said at least a few wrong things there. 

“How is you telling me what you think I should want any better than what he’s doing?” she asks, and Steve honestly can’t decide if she’s right and has a point, or if she’s just being defensive because he hit the nail on the head. He’s just gonna wait it out. He sighs a little and then Darcy drops her arms to her sides again and leans back against the wall. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re...It’s none of my business.”

She tilts her head at him and gives him this little smile like he’s being ridiculous. “You’re my friend, Steve. It’s your business.” Friend. Right. “You’re right. I actually hate that shit. And ever since we decided to make this thing more casual, I…”

“What?” Steve interrupts, looking every bit as confused as he feels. “I thought things were good. I thought it was serious.”

Darcy shrugs one shoulder and looks past him for a second, into the room where everyone’s gathering. Yeah, they should probably get in there, but now they’re talking and he wants an answer to his question. He’s 100 percent certain he in no way deserves one, but even so. She says they’re friends, and he thinks so, too, and so maybe he gets to ask things like this without worrying he’s crossing some arbitrary line. 

“We’re both busy. My hours are insane and his job is stressful. There was just all this pressure to work out times to actually date. This is better.”

Steve thinks it’s important to ask: “And this was your idea?”

Darcy sighs like she hates that he’s poking holes in this situation, but he’s not at all sorry to be doing it. 

“It was his. But I’m fine with it, really. Jason’s hot and, frankly, good in bed. A woman has needs, Steve.”

He does the fish mouth thing a few times because he just doesn’t know how to respond to that. It’s so ridiculous to him. And it isn’t just some ‘relic from the past’ bullshit about how he doesn’t understand 21st century dating customs. He just literally can’t think of a reason why it’d be better to just sleep with someone without any other connection as opposed to at least trying to have a relationship. And the fact of the matter is, Darcy did try that, and so Steve thinks she’d be better off just cutting ties with this jackass who just wants to use her for sex. But she didn’t ask for his opinion and he thinks he’s running out of free passes on just saying what he thinks without being invited to. 

“ _What_?” she asks. “Jesus. You’ve got your judgy eyes on.”

“I do not.” Yeah, that made him sound like a four year old. “I just don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to,” she says, brow raised, and he hears her phone buzz again and he’s not at all unsure of who it is. “I’m fine, pal, really. If I wasn’t, I’d tell him to go fuck himself. You know that. Now let’s go get me drunk.”

She pats him on the chest on her way to go join the rest of the team. She can try to sell that line to him as much as she wants, but Steve’s not buying it. She was into Jason. She was really excited about the relationship and vulnerable about it. Now she’s got her walls up again and she’s acting like none of that ever happened. Steve knows people, can read them pretty well, and you could take it to the bank that she’s only acting like this doesn’t bother her so she can save face. Hell, she’s probably trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to convince him. He knows she wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to do, so keeping up this casual relationship with the guy is totally something she wants. He just doesn’t believe she wants it more than she wanted him to be her boyfriend. 

But he is her friend, and he thinks he knows what she needs, so he grabs a bottle of bourbon from behind the bar and pours her a shot. The smile she gives him right before she tips it back is pretty perfect, but he doesn’t even feel good about it.

… … …

She comes in on a Wednesday wearing the same clothes she had on the day before. Steve’s in the lounge when she walks past, and he rubs his palm against his thigh so hard Sam glances at it then back up, as if to ask what the hell’s wrong. 

She keeps an outfit in her office, and she’s wearing that the next time he sees her. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s fighting a losing battle against being a jealous asshole. He doesn’t say anything to her about it. He doesn’t say anything to her at all. Which probably isn’t really any better.

… … …

They’re at her apartment, because yeah, that seemed like a good idea at 1:30 in the morning when they landed and she mentioned to him that she wanted to watch a movie and then sleep in her own bed, and hey, “Walk me home, Soldier.”

When he’s stretched out on her bed and she’s sipping from a glass of sparkling water, these ridiculous fuzzy socks on her feet and her hair in a mess on the top of her head, he just...Steve’s got feelings, okay? He actually thinks this is something he could do on a regular basis. Like, every night. 

She checks her phone for the third time in about 45 seconds and then feels like an idiot for not realizing sooner that she’s checking to see if the jerk of a guy she’s sleeping with has messaged her. And he’s so mad on her behalf, but she seems mostly fine with it, and he _still_ doesn’t get it, but it’s not his place.

She checks again, then tosses her phone to the end of the bed and mutters, “Asshole,” under her breath. She freezes, then, and sighs, looks over at Steve. “I told him when we’d be in. He said he’d text me.”

Ignoring the fact that he feels like second best, like some kind of placeholder til the guy she _really_ wanted to spend time with reached out, Steve says what he really does not believe: “Maybe something came up.”

She gives him a look that basically tells him he’s being stupid, says, “His phone is an appendage. He could fucking text.”

“I’m just trying to be supportive.”

“You’re making excuses for him.” She pins him with a look that, in his opinion, isn’t really fair.

He asks, “Haven’t you been doing that all along?” and watches her eyes narrow. Look, it’s hard to know what’s going to set her off sometimes. And maybe he should have thought that one through and realized that, you know, calling her out on the exact thing he knows is true wouldn’t go over so well. 

“Is this another one of your you-deserve-better talks? ‘Cause I’m not in the mood.”

Steve shakes his head and crosses his arms. That feels a lot like pouting, but he’s committed now and can’t undo it, so he stays that way and she’s staring straight ahead anyway. 

“You know I’m right,” he says quietly, because no, he really doesn’t want her to be mad at him for longer than a few minutes, but he also wants her to at least register that this asshole is _using_ her, and it’s no longer a mutually beneficial thing. 

She ignores him in favour of the movie, and he lets her because he might know just how to push her buttons, but he also knows when to stop. He’s said his piece and she heard him loud and clear. Whether or not she agrees with him is neither here nor there, he supposes. 

It’s at least four and a half minutes later when she lets out this sigh and says, “You’re right,” and he doesn’t want to make a big deal of it, because that wouldn’t help anything, either. At least she can see it, and regardless of the outcome - if Steve gets any real shot at being with her ever - at least she’ll stop doings this stupid thing with this guy who just seems to hurt her. At the end of the day, Steve cares about that more than his own feelings. 

“I just don’t want to be alone,” she says quietly. He barely hears her. It breaks his fucking heart a little. 

“You don’t have to be with that guy to not be alone.” 

She glances over at him like she knows _exactly_ what he meant by that, which would maybe be terrifying if he didn’t have a history of waiting til it’s too late to do something about his feelings for particular women. Sure, some of that wasn’t his fault, but still. He’s got this feeling he needs to just put it all out there and let her decide what to do with it. 

“Yeah,” she says, then there’s this tiny little smirk on her lips, and she’s going to make a joke, and he does love her sense of humour, but maybe now’s not the time. This is probably the most serious conversation they’ve ever had. “You seem to hang around a lot.”

He tilts his head, sighs out, “Darcy,” like he wants her to be serious about this. 

“Why’s that, Steve?” He shakes his head and she turns towards him a little more, her knee resting atop his thigh. 

“You know why.” With a shrug of her shoulder, she’s trying to look as innocent as possible, and it’s a look she really should not be able to pull off. “I like being with you.” She blinks at him, starts to smile. “I want to be with you.”

She lets out this breath, like she either can’t believe it or can’t believe he actually said it. To be honest, he can’t quite believe it either. Steve’s a man of action, so he half figured that if something was going to happen, it might just be him making a move. His mouth’s always gotten him in trouble, and talking to women is something he thinks you’re just always working on. 

She leans over, then, kisses the corner of his mouth and sets her hand on her chest, almost like she’s stopping herself from doing something more. Frankly, he’d love it if she would. They just look at each other for a second, and hell, he can’t just pretend he doesn’t want more than that. He sinks his hand into her hair, gives her a second to stop him if that’s what she wants, and then presses his lips against hers and feels her hand ball into a fist holding his shirt. She lets out this sound from the back of her throat before she pulls away, and then raises her hand and strokes her thumb along his bottom lip. Which is about the sexiest damn thing that’s ever happened to him. 

“This is never gonna work,” she says, leaning back against the pillows, but then putting her head on his shoulder.

“We’ll see,” he says with a smirk. Steve laces their fingers together. She lets him.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Katy! <3<3<3


End file.
